


Strong as a Lady

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Grelle carries our little guy on her shoulders, Grelle loves her nerd, Othello is impressed with his woman as he should be, Trans Female Character, female pronouns for Grelle, lady and the geek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 07:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20004703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Grelle receives an unexpected Saturday morning visit from Othello, who is in need of a lady's strength for a certain task.





	Strong as a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for an anonymous Tumblr prompt in which I was asked to use the verbs "wink" and "help." I love writing for this underrated OTP, so I hope you enjoy!

Grelle sipped contentedly at her coffee, enjoying the Saturday morning sunshine that flooded through the windows of her first-floor apartment. She was clad in nothing but a scarlet bathrobe with fur trim at the sleeves (she preferred to sleep _au naturel_ , usually throwing on the robe once she got out of bed), and her hair was still tousled from last night’s slumber.

She gave a start when she heard an unexpected knock at the door. Was she imagining things? No, there it was again, a light _rat-tat-tat_. Who could be calling on her during the weekend? She felt a twinge of anxiety. If one of those dweebs from management had slunk over to disrupt her Saturday with another request to work overtime, she’d give them an earful, and then some!

“COMING!” she called, shoving her feet into fuzzy red slippers and hurrying to the door. Upon opening it, she was pleasantly surprised to see none other than her little Othello standing at the threshold, wearing a nondescript white shirt and black trousers in place of his usual labcoat. His mouth dropped open when he took in Grelle’s attire, and she observed with a surge of pride that his face turned bright red. Good to know that she wasn’t completely frightful without makeup. “Is this a bad time? I-I can come back later…” he squeaked, but Grelle bent down and bestowed two kisses, one on each cheek, which only made him blush all the more.

“Do come in, darling,” she cooed, ushering him inside. “Besides,” she drawled, winking and allowing the robe to slip off her right shoulder, revealing more of her chest, “we _know_ each other verrrry well by now, hmm?” To the dispatch’s shock (and William’s immense relief), Grelle and Othello had started dating not too long ago, and the red reaper had been thrilled to _death_ when Othello proved himself to be quite the naughty little thing in bed. Othello scuffed the floor and rubbed the back of his head, though he couldn’t hide the boyish grin that she found so endearing. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Oh?”

“Um…This tree limb fell in my back yard during last night’s storm, and I…I don’t think I’m strong enough to move it myself.” He bashfully looked down, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Grelle laughed, though not unkindly. “And so you need the help of your doughty lover to move the pesky thing?”

“Well, I normally don’t lift stuff much heavier than a pipette. You’re the one who runs around fighting demons and swinging that ridiculous death scythe of yours.”

“Says the nerd who kept his uncool training version!” she huffed. “But I shan’t leave my man hanging. Just give me a minute to put on my face.”

“You already have a face,” Othello countered, crossing his arms. “And it suits me just fine as is.”

“You know what I mean, ‘thello! A lady should never appear in public without her makeup; she’d be hideous. What would people think?”

“But the tree doesn’t care!” Othello protested, rolling his eyes.

“It’ll just take a minute, darling.”

Othello’s eyebrows arched upwards in disbelief.

“Two minutes.”

His eyebrows ascended still further.

“I’ll _hurry_ , I promise.”

“You always say that,” he scoffed, though there was a twinkle in his eye.

About an hour later (applying a full face of makeup and preparing her hair _did_ tend to be time-consuming), Grelle finally set out with Othello to tackle the tree limb. He hadn’t been exaggerating. The branch was massive, far too heavy for the diminutive scientist to grapple with. After about five minutes of straining, sweating (ugh! How unladylike), and profuse swearing, she hoisted it over the fence. She broke out in a broad, sharp-toothed grin as it landed with a supremely satisfying _thud_.

“Damn, that was amazing!” Othello cheered with an enthusiasm he’d normally reserve for an exciting dissection or successful experiment. “You’re so strong!”

Grelle was often self-conscious about her upper arms and shoulders. In her eyes, they were too brawny and muscular, not delicate and feminine like they ought to have been. However, seeing Othello’s open admiration helped her feel a little more comfortable in her skin.

“You’re a dear, ‘thello,” she smiled. Seized by a playful impulse, she added, “Care to see just how strong a lady can be?”

“Wha—”

Before Othello had time to complete his sentence, she scooped him up and threw him over her back, slinging the scientist’s legs over her shoulders.

“Woah!” Othello laughed breathlessly, gripping her hair for support. Giggling, Grelle leapt across the yard, carrying her nerd with ease. _We both lift each other up_ , she thought as she ran through the grass. In Grelle’s experience, men came and went like the tide, but she was starting to think that Othello was a keeper.


End file.
